and soon regained her usual composure, and was even
gratified and amused with the adventure.

A load, however, fell from the heart of Ferdinand, when he and his
beloved bade Glastonbury a good afternoon. This accidental and almost
fatal interview terribly reminded him of his difficult and dangerous
position; it seemed the commencement of a series of misconceptions,
mortifications, and misfortunes, which it was absolutely necessary to
prevent by instantly arresting them with the utmost energy and decision.
It was bitter to quit Armine and all his joys, but in truth the arrival
of his family was very doubtful: and, until the confession of his real
situation was made, every day might bring some disastrous discovery.
Some ominous clouds in the horizon formed a capital excuse for hurrying
Henrietta off to Ducie. They quitted Armine at an unusually early hour.
As they drove along, Ferdinand revolved in his mind the adventure of
the morning, and endeavoured to stimulate himself to the exertion of
instantly repairing to Bath. But he had not courage to confide his
purpose to Henrietta. When, however, they arrived at Ducie, they were
welcomed with intelligence which rendered the decision, on his part,
absolutely necessary. But we will reserve this for the next chapter.

CHAPTER V.

_Which Contains Something Very Unexpected_.

MISS TEMPLE had run up stairs to take off her bonnet; Ferdinand stood
before the wood fire in the salon. Its clear, fragrant flame was
agreeable after the cloudy sky of their somewhat chill drive. He
was musing over the charms of his Henrietta, and longing for her
reappearance, when she entered; but her entrance filled him with alarm.
She was pale, her lips nearly as white as her forehead. An expression of
dread was impressed on her agitated countenance. Ere he could speak she
held forth her hand to his extended grasp. It was cold, it trembled.

'Good God! you are ill!' he exclaimed. 'No!' she faintly murmured, 'not
ill.' And then she paused, as if stifled, leaning down her head with
eyes fixed upon the ground.

The conscience of Ferdinand pricked him. Had she heard------

But he was reassured by her accents of kindness. 'Pardon me, dearest,'
she said; 'I am agitated; I shall soon be better.'

He held her hand with firmness while she leant upon his shoulder. After
a few minutes of harrowing silence, she said in a smothered voice, 'Papa
returns to-morrow.'

Ferdinand turned as pale as sh